


The Kingsguard and I

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking out of the window of a nearby swanky hotel, Brienne Tarth only saw well-guarded barriers and rows and rows of waiting, adoring fans. They were not, however, there to see her, assistant director for the highly anticipated blockbuster <i>The Kingsguard and I</i>, but the top billed stars of the movie and she didn't blame any of them for a second. The mix of action adventure and obvious, cliched romance seemed to appeal to a wide audience, though from what she could see, those who had turned out tonight were mostly young, overexcited women. And that, she suspected, was due to the film series' gorgeous anti-hero being played by the equally sexy, equally challenging, Jaime Lannister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to give a huge thank you to sandwichesareyumyum for all her help and support this week with this story! I haven't been well since the weekend and some of my notes have probably not been as legible as they could have been! :)
> 
> Thank you also to RoseHeart for everything and especially for keeping me on track as I tend to wander if left on my own for too long!
> 
> Anything you recognise is not mine, I'm just borrowing characters etc. in order for maximum fluffiness!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! A second chapter will likely be posted at the weekend.

On a normal evening Leicester Square would have been a place of constant movement, locals and tourists and theatre goers passing through to get to Oxford Street or Covent Garden alike, the bright lights of the West End within easy access. But looking out of the window of a nearby swanky hotel, Brienne Tarth only saw well-guarded barriers and rows and rows of waiting, adoring fans. They were not, however, there to see her, assistant director for the highly anticipated blockbuster _The Kingsguard and I_ , but the top billed stars of the movie and she didn't blame any of them for a second. The mix of action adventure and obvious, cliched romance seemed to appeal to a wide audience, though from what she could see, those who had turned out tonight were mostly young, overexcited women. And that, she suspected, was due to the film series' gorgeous anti-hero being played by the equally sexy, equally challenging, Jaime Lannister.

She had already noticed his image seemed to have been plastered on every bus and billboard across the city, adding to the hype the film had been slowly gaining in the last few months. The London premiere was the last stop on a whirlwind promotional tour and if she hadn't been specifically asked to attend by both leads, one a friendly request while the other was closer to a rude demand, Brienne would have spent the night sat at her desk, painstakingly editing the short film she'd shot in the over the Christmas break.

The latter message had come from Jaime Lannister himself, a veteran of some half dozen _Kingsguard_ films, the last two giving Brienne chance after chance to hone her skills while putting a dent in her student loans, though he'd made no secret of how little he cared if she actually turned up or not. The other, Margaery Tyrell, a former soap star and tabloid staple who had crossed over into movies on a wave of publicity and promises, had been sweeter and it had been her numerous insistences that finally convinced Brienne to venture out. Being that she was firmly on the technical side of production, she was rarely presented with the opportunity to socialise with the cast, though Margaery, her brother, Loras, and their small entourage had been nice enough to hang out with at the wrap party last year. So it was really only the thought of stumbling down the red carpet that had left a sense of dread bubbling away in Brienne's stomach.

Double checking the time, and figuring she had given Margaery more than long enough to get ready, Brienne picked up her purse, a small, silver, sparkly thing that she'd borrowed from the stylist who had arrived that morning to dress the stars, and walked down the hall to take the elevator up to the Tyrell's suite. It was only a five floor journey but even that gave her a chance to chew nervously on her already chapped lower lip, caught thinking about cameras and flashing lights when the doors opened on Jaime Lannister struggling to fasten his cuff links, one hand encased in plaster.

"Blue!" he exclaimed, picking up a ridiculous nickname she thought she'd heard for the last time. There was more than a touch of surprise in his voice and, if Brienne hadn't known better, she would have guessed he was almost pleased to see her.

"I didn't think these kind of events would be your thing," Jaime continued, wincing when he missed the hole for the cuff link and ended up scraping along the inside of his wrist instead. "Aren't you supposed to be in Hungary working on that god awful TV show?"

She must have mentioned it in passing as there was no way he would have checked up on her in the last six months since they'd seen each other last. "Aren't you supposed to be in Belize? Or was it Brazil?"

"Both. Either." Jaime held up his hand. "Broken wrist pushed things back a few weeks. We're shooting internal scenes here in London until after Christmas now."

"You should use a stunt double. You're not as young as you once were."

"Is that concern I hear?" he laughed, going to back to fighting with his sleeve when she didn't join in or rush to protest. "The studio likes me being their go to action hero, Blue, gives all those hungry journalists something to write about if I get injured on the job. I can see the headlines now, Jaime Lannister: reckless or reliable?"

"Your _recklessness_ will be costing the studio hundreds of thousands. Column inches don't buy back set up or travelling time," she frowned, reaching for his hand before she could second guess her instinctive offer of help, snapping the tiny gold lion in place quicker than either of them could blink.

"So, Blue," he murmured, staying a little too close for comfort now that she'd finished her task. "What are they writing about _you_ if you're going to get so judgemental?"

Brienne glanced down as she heard the teasing purr creep into his tone, noticing that the hotel carpet was nearly as green as his eyes. "One of my short films is on the list for The Fringe next summer."

"If you think you might need a nudge at any point, I know one of the selectors. We could exchange numbers, keep in touch." She raised her head to send him a questioning glare, Jaime winking back at her and multiplying her discomfort. "It's not what you know..."

"I should go. Margarey's waiting for me."

"I didn't realise you and Ms Arbor Fields were friends."

"I'm not sure we are yet."

Before he could find a reply for her honesty, one of the studio's production assistants, Jos, came tearing down the corridor, ready to take Jaime away to the first interview of the evening that he was likely already late for. Brienne moved out of the way with a smile for the young man, he'd always been quietly pleasant on set and she hoped he could handle looking after their star for the premiere. Jaime was charm personified when it came to meeting his fans, rarely begrudging a handshake or a photo, but had a tendency to skew in the opposite direction when it came to the press trying to pry into his past. There were secrets there, it came with his all too infamous family name, but if they kept him talking about the film, and Belize or Brazil, he wouldn't cross so many lines that the studio heads would need to get involved to 'talk about' his 'behaviour'.

Wondering if she should warn Jos about how best to deal with Jaime before they parted ways, though deciding he must have already been prepped by one of his colleagues, Brienne strode away without giving into the urge to say goodbye or anything else for that matter. Though Jaime, as always, needed to feel like he'd had the last word.

"By the way, I _love_ the suit, Blue. I should have guessed you wouldn't have shown up in a dress, even if it is what all the cool girls are wearing tonight."

One of the strange perks of Brienne working on a big budget TV set for half the year was having an award winning costume department right on her doorstep, and after telling the Manderly girls of her usual formal clothing predicaments over coffee one rainy day, they had been happy to tailor the midnight blue satin suit for her red carpet debut. The garment had been meant for a scene in the show that had ultimately ended up on the cutting room floor, though that hadn't stopped it from catching Brienne's attention on multiple occasions. Once their work was complete, Wylla and Wynnie had also pleaded with her to put self-consciousness aside and leave as much of her perfectly pale, freckled skin on show under the jacket, her uncovered collarbone and obvious lack of cleavage having immediately drawn Jaime's critical eye.

"Shut up," she retorted, blushing furiously as the sound of an amplified voice and the screaming reply trickled up the side of the building. "Your fans are getting impatient."

"So you wouldn't ever turn that delightful shade of scarlet again in my presence? Never. My fans can wait another minute or so."

"We can't really keep them much longer, Mr Lannister," Jos interjected, appearing embarrassed to be caught in the middle of their conversation. "Ms Tarth and Ms Tyrell have a schedule to keep to as well tonight. Their car will be here in ten minutes. Yours is outside now."

Jaime let out a mock sigh. "Maybe we can pick this up later when I'm not being dragged away to talk about _The Kingsguard_?"

"Goodnight, Jaime."

"See you at the after party, Blue."

She was still blushing when Margaery opened the door to the penthouse suite, having allowed thoughts of Jaime in his tux and how best to avoid his loaded remarks later to mull around in her head, walking past a perfectly made up movie star and into a cloud of perfume. Brienne's make up, in contrast, had only ever consisted of a tube of melon lip balm and a smudgy eyeliner pencil she picked out while waiting to buy lunch. From what she could see just by taking a quick glance down the pretty cream and gold hallway life, was entirely different on the other side of the camera.

Although she was getting so far out of her depth Brienne could no longer see the shore, it must not have shown on her face as Margaery beamed, ushering her further into the room after taking a long look up and down the corridor outside.

"Have they put the heating on already? You look like you're burning up," she enquired innocently. "Would you like a drink?" No sooner had the question been asked, a glass of what Brienne hoped was water had been placed in her hand, one of Margaery's assistants gliding past as if on wheels.

"Or did we have a run in with a certain gentleman?"

"I don't know what...who you're talking about." Brienne swallowed a sip of the clear liquid, feeling the alcohol burn the back of her throat.

" _Jaime_ arrived yesterday evening, very quietly, but I heard him pacing all night," Margaery smiled. "I think he might have been nervous and it was nothing short of adorable. I nearly invited him in but despite what the gossip rags say, he's never been interested in me."

Brienne coughed, the vodka was stronger than it looked. "Really? Is he...?"

"Gay?" Margaery finished for her, laughing like a melodic bell. "No, he turned down Loras, too."

"Okay," Brienne replied tentatively.

"I just think Jaime must have a very specific type and I'm not it. It plays well in the press though while we're promoting this film. Even if I am getting married again next year," she informed Brienne as they wandered through to the living area of the suite. "You know what they say, third times the charm."

Brienne made sure to nod in all the right places while Margaery talked, assistants buzzing around the brunette in order to put the finishing touches to her look, happy to let her monopolise the conversation when it stayed about men and shoes. She stared at her own scuffed silver flats the whole time, speaking up only as the conversation shifted towards their upcoming projects.

"Hungary is beautiful in the autumn," she explained as one of the girls asked to dust some powder over her cheeks and forehead to counteract the glare from the cameras. "But by the time you get to November, the colder weather makes filming so much harder."

"Will you still be there in April?" Margaery asked, taking one final look in the mirror before dropping her lipstick in her purse and snapping it closed. "I'm flying out to shoot a World War Two drama after Easter and it would be nice to see a familiar face while I'm there."

"Sorry, we wrap in late February." She left her, mostly untouched, glass on the catering trolley and followed her near friend out. "But, if things go well, we'll be back in the summer."

"Oh, that's a shame. But at least you'll see Jaime when he comes over for his guest spot on your show."

Brienne's mind stuttered to a standstill. "His what?!"

"Did he not tell you?" Margaery smirked, making Brienne feel like she'd been saving that piece of information for a special moment. "He's going to play the king's brother. For the coronation tourney thing."

"Why?"

"Don't you think it's time he played a white knight?"

"B-but he already has!" Brienne spluttered indignantly. "His first film, that's exactly what he was. Didn't you tell me that an actor should always look forward, not back?"

"Apart from franchises and sequels."

"Apart from franchises and sequels," she agreed with a deep sigh, crossing her arms and mentally refusing to take another step until Margaery had stopped smirking up at her. "But _The Red Keep_ isn't either."

"No, but neither is it _The Fall_ ," Margaery smiled a little brighter as Brienne's mask of neutrality fell quicker than she could guard against. "It doesn't matter that it's a cult classic, that film is over twenty years old. Jaime was only-"

"Seventeen."

"Oh no," she replied, friendly with just a touch of mocking that nevertheless rankled Brienne far less than Jaime's earlier attempts to burrow under her skin. "Please don't tell me you also had his poster on your wall growing up."

"Like you said, it was a long time ago," Brienne mumbled, thinking back to the giant picture of Jaime, standing in front of the legendary Iron Throne with his armour shining white and gold, that had decorated her bedroom wall for years as a teenager. She'd known next to nothing about him in the pre-social media days of her youth, his interviews few and far between, but his character had been brave and noble and true and she had wanted to fight at his back just as much as she'd wanted to be by his side. "Things change. _People_ change."

"And?" Margaery pushed as Brienne tried to hide her relief in seeing Pia, another assistant and Jos' usual right hand, walking towards them with an overflowing binder of scheduling information.

"And what?"

"And I thought we were friends," she insisted, changing tactics while Pia efficiently escorted them both down to the lobby and out to the car waiting to take them less than a quarter mile. "You know, Jaime's sister was coming to the end of her time on _Arbor Fields_ when I was just starting out. It must have been two or three years after his big break and, well...I'm not going to blame you if you had a crush. He was _gorgeous_."

"I didn't say that," Brienne clarified. "I had lots of film posters on my wall when I was younger. Jaime might have been in one but there wasn't a poster of _Jaime_ specifically."

"He's ageing like a fine wine, too."

"I-I haven't noticed, I...don't really drink."

"That was a figure of speech, sweetie," she kindly countered, laughing gently and nodding her thanks to the driver of their limo as he stepped out of the vehicle to hold open a door for each of them in turn. "I was just trying to say that Jaime looks very distinguished with some silver in his mane, where as you and I in a similar position would probably be called something synonymous with 'old'."

Having met Margaery's grandmother several years earlier, Brienne doubted that the brunette would ever be seen as anything other than elegant. Her teal gown shimmered like a rainbow of iridescent sparkle with every step she took and even the skyscraper heels that only brought her up to Brienne's shoulder couldn't stop Margaery from skilfully easing herself into the backseat without showing more than a tease of flesh. Brienne, on the other hand, felt closer to a captive mammoth as she scrambled through the passenger side door, careful not to bang her head or bruise her knees while she folded and settled into the confined space beside her new friend.

"All ready, ladies?" the driver asked at the sound of Brienne snapping her seatbelt on. Though they weren't really going very far, just around the corner, she'd rather take every precaution she could, as she always had, after the accident that had ended her mother's life during a routine trip to the supermarket back home. It wasn't really the time to be thinking about her mum, but as the engine started and Margaery picked up the same string of conversation they'd been following in the penthouse suite, Brienne couldn't stop herself from remembering being taken to the cinema to see her mother's favourite actor, Arthur Dayne, Jaime's predecessor, in one of his later _Kingsguard_ outings. Her dad had already promised over and over again that Alyssa would be so proud of what her daughter had already achieved, so excited that she was walking a red carpet, her name in black and white on the IMAX screen.

That thought alone brought an unexpected tear to Brienne's eye, smudging her make up even more as she reached up to wipe the moisture away. Eleven was no age to lose a parent. Margaery was still talking, having moved onto the journalists she knew that would be expecting sound bites and which ones they both should avoid if they'd rather not be seen in the trashier celeb magazines next week.

"Gilly Craster from _Newsbeat_ is always a sweetheart, and the Rivers girl from _Film_ doesn't..." she trailed off when she noticed Brienne rubbing her eyes. Margaery casually opened her purse and pulled out a cylinder of liquid eyeliner as the car paused at a set of traffic lights.

"I promise this won't magically change who you are or what you stand for," she guaranteed as Brienne recoiled from the rapidly approaching brush. "But your eyes belong in a Cover Girl commercial so why not draw more attention to them?"

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better," Brienne sniffed, resisting the urge to blink away the hastily applied lines of liquid before they had a chance to dry.

"And I'm not," Margaery replied, rearranging her skirt as the lights around them started to get brighter and brighter, signalling their approach into the, normally, pedestrian only area. "You've met my grandmother, you know she doesn't believe in mollycoddling grown men and women just to spare feelings. Just remember what she told you when you're walking towards the cinema, Brienne, you're 'absolutely singular'."

She wasn't convinced but swallowed her nerves the best she could. "Okay."

It was a surprise to find Podrick, of all people, waiting for her on the other side of the door as it opened. The teenager was one of the best runners Brienne had ever come across and had often wished she could have taken him with her to help in Hungary. The last she had heard, he'd been whisked away up North to work on a nature documentary. But as the photographers lining the red carpet became noisier than most on set shootouts she'd assisted with, yelling at Margaery as she paused and posed, Brienne was more than happy to stay behind and catch up with Pod. Watching the brunette twist and turn on the red carpet, showing off her gown and borrowed jewels, making sure everyone got their money's worth, Brienne realised there was no universe where she could successfully follow that star turn, praying for an alternative way through the crowds to avoid running the terrifying photo gauntlet.

Pod was nice enough to lead her into the tent set up for runners and assistants but that shortcut landed Brienne directly into the print and screen media area, the group exchanging confused glances until one brave soul beckoned her forward, placing her directly between Jaime and their director, Barristan Selmy. Jaime shot her a long, lecherous look as she stepped into the line of fire, seeming determined to make her blush, which didn't go unnoticed by the buxom redhead thrusting out her chest almost as fiercely as her phone.

"Ros Snow with _The Kingsguard Companion_ ," she introduced herself with a smile at Jaime, who had so far paid her little to no attention, finishing his interview with a handshake before heading towards the crowd brandishing posters and notebooks to be signed. "I wonder," she continued with an audible sigh as he disappeared out of earshot, "if you could shed some light on the creative process behind filming a _Kingsguard_ movie, day to day?"

"Well," Brienne swallowed, looking anywhere but directly at Ros. "Most days are very long and it was difficult logistically at times, as we were often shooting in several locations at the same time and not always in the same country. We also faced a big challenge early on with Roslin Tully's pregnancy and the recast of that character. But that gave us the opportunity to introduce the world to Tyene Sand, who's also the real life cousin of Quentyn Martell, the onscreen team's tech genius."

Brienne felt like she was babbling, but Barristan patted her shoulder as he passed and that gave her just enough reassurance that she wasn't doing everything wrong. Taking another deep breath, Ros' next question was about her favourite scene in the movie. She found it easy enough to discuss the opening that bled through into the credits, how visually stunning it was going to look on the big screen and how it was worth the fortnight it took to film. Another couple of technical queries followed, Ros thanking her for being so open as the publication didn't often get to interview an AD.

But just as Brienne was getting comfortable, not being able to comment on the likelihood of a sequel, just that she would like to be involved should it come to pass, the tone of the questions changed and she was right back to being caught blushing and stuttering again.

"The _Kingsguard_ films are known for their steamy sex scenes," Ros giggled to herself. "Basically our readers would like to know if Jaime Lannister is going to take his clothes off on screen again?"

"I..." Brienne glanced over at Jaime, who was currently taking selfies with his fans, pulling faces and posing with what looked to be a small stuffed horse, a perfect replica of _The Fall_ 's Honor. "I...I don't think I was on s-set that day. You should ask Margaery."

"But-"

Brienne almost lost a shoe as she span around, trying to retreat as quickly and quietly as possible, but her half trip caused the pack of contained journalists to titter and whisper amongst themselves, continuing to watch her misadventures while they lay in wait for their next victim. After a moment or two, the sound grew loud enough to turn Jaime's head even from where was kneeling to talk to a boy in a wheelchair, his black tux jacket near matching Jaime's own.

"Blue!" he called to her without hesitation, silencing Ros and her colleagues. "Come here and meet Bran. He wants to be a filmmaker just like you."

Although Brienne would have preferred to take shelter in the multiplex that was now only several hundred yards away, a quick look into the busy, buzzing crowd confirmed that her above average second assistant director, Hyle Hunt, and his group of crude, loud mouthed cronies were already milling around inside. Even if she would have to remind Jaime in no uncertain terms how little she appreciated being ordered around like a dog being called to heel, any length of time spent with his odd critical complimentary comments ringing in her ears was better than a moment alone in Hyle's company. Jaime made her feel uncomfortable at the best of times but at least he'd never considered using more than words to follow through on any of his deliciously languid propositions.

Thankfully the arrival of Tyene and Quentyn, the former in an outfit that appeared to be made out of little more than mesh and handfuls of pure white feathers, provided enough of a distraction that no one but Jaime paid her heed as Brienne picked herself up and carefully strode over to the barriers marking out the square.

"Mr Lannister said you were going to have a film at The Fringe. He said you were brilliant," the teenaged boy, Bran, told her excitedly while she shook his hand and copied Jaime by sinking down into the crimson carpet underneath their feet, exchanging pointed looks with the man who was insisting that he be called by his first name. Jaime had said that to her, too, back when they had first met, her initial manners finally being overruled as she'd learned more and more about him until an antagonistic back and forth had been silently determined. He'd never in all those years had even insinuated that she was 'brilliant', though, and its inclusion now turned her mind to suspicion and doubt.

"I've put a couple of things up on YouTube, but I dream about going to a film festival all the time," Bran continued, not waiting for her and Jaime to work through their need for silent, questioning, stares. "Though this premiere is awesome, too."

"I suppose it is," she smiled politely, thinking she would never get used to the glitz and the glamour, and noise, of events like this. "What kind of films are you hoping to make? Something like _The Kingsguard_?"

Bran shook his head. "Something scary. Maybe with White Walkers and big battles." He sighed. "But at the minute, I just follow my dog around in the forests behind where we live."

"You should have a chat with the Reeds," Jaime cut in as she started to say she'd started in a similar way. "They're supposed to start shooting their next trendy, psychological horror thing early next year at Hardhome. I don't think either of them are much older than you."

"They were consultants on the movie," Brienne explained as Bran's face lit up, liking him more and more. Bran probably didn't have the easiest time at school but he appeared to love movies enough to see a potential future in them and, on some level, she could relate. "For the nightmare scenes. I think they should be here tonight, somewhere."

"Oh wow," he replied. "It would be amazing if I could meet them! I'd love to ask about the CGI on _Three Eyed Raven_."

"I passed them on the way in," Jaime shook his head sadly. "Jojen isn't a fan of all the flashing lights."

Brienne was full of apologies as Tyene inadvertently interrupted them when she came over to sign autographs for those people screaming out. They waved one last time to Bran as they were forced to move away by the newcomer but Jaime still stopped every other step to finish greeting his fans. She could see the Dothraki security guards hovering ominously just out of sight in the foyer to tick names off their list, and Brienne's sudden, brilliant idea of asking Meera Reed back out to meet Bran became a lost option with Stallion Security keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings.

She didn't know why she waited for Jaime before heading in, wondering if it was simply a case of facing a new situation with the devil she knew. Hoping she wouldn't appear in too many photos, she watched as Jaime walked up to where she had paused.

"I've been thinking," he whispered under his breath, giving one final wave to the fans who had waited out half the day just to catch a glimpse of a movie star.

"Don't hurt yourself," she murmured back. "It would look awful on the front pages."

Jaime only grinned up at her mischievously. "Speaking of which..." he replied with a wink, reaching out to hook his arm around Brienne's waist, pulling her into the field of play as it felt like millions of flashes went off around them, Jaime continuing to smile. "They're all going to want to know your name tomorrow."

"Ugly giant accompanies Jaime Lannister down the red carpet?"

"Statuesque blonde catches Jaime Lannister's eye at London premiere."

"No one in their right mind would write that," she grumbled, extricating herself from his grip. "I don't belong on this side of the camera."

"Maybe not," he agreed with the glare that she aimed squarely at him. "But if you really don't want to do the rest of this, Blue, I know somewhere we could go and wait out the rest of this media storm."

He stared too long and she blushed despite herself. It was awkward to keep glancing back at him as they continued towards the cinema but he didn't appear to be looking away either, so honest and straightforward she had to change the subject. "What were you thinking?"

"I think that kid, Bran, would get more out of this screening than either of us."

"Aren't you under contract?"

"Aren't you?" he snapped back.

"No," Brienne huffed. "This was a favour to Margaery and I've ended up spending more time with you."

"Your acting skills must be better than I assumed if you can cover up your feelings that easily," he laughed as they hit a wall of warm air, walking through the opening automatic doors. "It's okay to sound happy about it."

"I don't know why, did you forget that I spend my days watching the likes of you chew on cheesy dialogue in gorgeous locations?"

"I'm hurt."

"No, you're not."

"I am," he insisted. "Unless you're including me in the 'gorgeous location' part of that statement."

Brienne rolled her eyes. "Vanity isn't attractive on anyone."

"So that's why you can't stop looking at me," Jaime retorted while retrieving his crumpled ticket from a pocket in his jacket, snatching Brienne's out of her hand almost as soon as it appeared there. "I had wondered."

"Give me that back, Jaime," she demanded, crossing one arm across her chest as she stretched out the other hand.

"Why don't you come and get it, Blue?" Jaime teased in return, taking a step to hold it away from her beyond arm's length. She followed like they were held together by invisible string, attempting to anticipate each and every move he made until they were stepping and sliding and struggling for the tickets as one body, always attacking, faster and faster and faster. It felt like a dance, like a sword fight from the movie they'd filmed, her hands brushing his chest and shoulders, his on her back, her ribcage, her wrists.

"I'm not playing with you, Jaime," she insisted as she took another step towards her goal.

"But you're doing it so well."

No matter how arrogantly he was biting back against her sensible suggestions, it didn't stop Jaime from misjudging his next move. He ended up with his back to a false partition wall, just in front of a muscular security guard who was dressed in black from head to toe. Jaime's eyes seemed to darken as she loomed over him, so close that Brienne could feel his increasingly heavy exhalations stretch out to caress the slowly simmering freckles along her neck. Almost forgetting why they were there, he was much too close now, and though he wasn't touching her anywhere, the weight of his exploring eyes as they moved made her feel like she was being stripped of her suit, her protective armour, piece by piece.

"Thank you," Brienne breathed as she snatched the tickets from between his fingers, Jaime putting up little resistance, just watching her from under fluttering, golden eyelashes. "Wait," she snapped, double checking the numbers on the cards. "Why are we sitting together?"

"Are we? I thought I'd be with Tyene and Margaery. I..." he paused, biting into his lip but offering her no further explanation. "Blue," he started a heartbeat later, drawing out her nickname into several dozen syllables, giving Brienne the distinct impression that he was trying to charm her into breaking a rule. "How would you like to make a boy and his carer's night?"

She tried not to narrow her eyes, hating that her thoughts were still straying towards which member of the cast or crew had swapped their assigned seat, so Jaime would be able to provide her with a three-hour constant commentary when she'd been present on set for most of his scenes. It could have been almost anyone, she decided, there would only be a small percentage of the male dominated crew who didn't have a crush on one or both of their female leads, or it could simply be that Jaime was messing with her, again, and there was actually an aisle between the numbers on the tickets. Though side by side or several feet apart would work equally as well for Bran. The _Kingsguard_ movie opened nationwide the week after next and, if she wanted to see the finished piece, she would be far happier catching a showing without any of the fuss that had accompanied the premiere.

"I was going to suggest the same thing if you'd have given me another minute."

Jaime really deserved every single 'stunning' synonym when his smile was genuine. "You know what they say about great minds, Blue."

"There isn't an ulterior motive for this, right?" He was always good with his fans but this gesture was a novel approach to those interactions.

"Like what? Like getting you to spill all your secrets when we go back to your hotel room?" He studied her carefully and that was all it took before she _knew_ that this might be as important to him as it was to her. That this was the Jaime she maybe wouldn't mind getting to know better.

"All joking aside, Blue," he added. "Do you really think I enjoy watching myself swashbuckle and make out with random women on a giant screen?" She shook her head and was granted another smile that make her stomach drop and swoosh. "Besides, give it another two years and I'll be back on this merry-go-round again. Like you said, I'm under contact but I think I can miss one spin."

"Sorry," she mumbled, not knowing if she'd overstepped or not, reading the small print on the tickets over and over. "I think I'd like to come back, too, but...I don't know where I'm going to be."

"Hey, you never know, you might be the one directing me to spar shirtless and all sweaty by then."

"I-I don't know," Brienne repeated, fighting the stutter that tried to break through. "They wouldn't take the risk, surely. A woman has never directed a _Kingsguard_ film before. And certainly not one without a proven track record of coping with a big budget production."

"They would if I said I wouldn't do it without you. There's always a first time for everything."

Taken aback that he would have the audacity to suggest something like that, even if it was in jest, Brienne felt her mouth drop open as Margaery passed by, glancing between them, a mischievously approving smile stretching across her perfect features. She mouthed 'I told you so', though Brienne didn't have enough presence of mind in that moment to be sure what her new friend was referring to. But the interruption had given her just enough distance not to need to press Jaime for a follow up question.

"I can go and get Bran if you want to sneak out the back," she offered.

"And leave you to deal with the pack of vultures in the media pen, again?" Jaime cut through her upcoming protests effortlessly, taking a look at the security guard behind them who was having a hard time maintaining his sour expression with Margaery fluttering around him. "There's a bear of a guy out there I don't think either of us would want to face alone."

Brienne grimaced, if she had to speak to another reporter this year it would be too soon. "So how do we do this?"

"With a little help from our friends."


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So tonight isn't work?" he enquired, his tone becoming sweet and suspicious.
> 
> "Of course it is."
> 
> "Well, why aren't you wearing anything under your suit?"
> 
> Brienne felt herself begin to burn red hot in the second it took for Jaime to reacquaint himself with the vast amount of skin that was exposed at chest and neck level. "I am," she promised. "You just can't see all of it."
> 
> "I'd like to see it later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, along with coming up to a busy time of the year at work, I've been hit with some writers block between posting the first chapter and this one. With the help of Sandwiches and RoseHeart that has now eased slightly and this has become three chapters rather than two! :)
> 
> Thank you to all who have left comments and kudos on this story, I hope it continues to be an enjoyable read.

Twenty minutes later, Brienne found herself being surreptitiously rushed along the narrow corridor that ran past the offices and staff common areas that made up the, not unexpectedly, beige and grey behind the scenes part of the cinema. She'd reached for Jaime's hand a few turns ago, the building becoming more and more like a rabbit warren the deeper they went. Preferring not lose sight of their guide and have to explain themselves to another staff member, she felt Jaime's fingers gripping and entwining with her own as she pulled him along behind her.

Even if she wouldn't want to admit it out loud, his ego was large enough without her adding to it, Jaime's spur of the moment plan had worked perfectly, helped in no small part by Margaery's natural charm and her own neglected art skills. While Margaery had sweet talked the surprisingly chatty security guard, Rahkaro, into looking the other way when it came to letting a boy in a wheelchair take the place of a _Kingsguard_ veteran, Brienne had borrowed Jaime's iPad, which had been tucked away in one of his jacket pocket. Quickly drawing up a poster congratulating Bran on his win, she had, all the while, protested the ethics of a putting together a competition that hadn't been given proper circulation. She was the only voice of reason in that small group, though, Rahkaro's fellow guards, Aggo and Jhogo, agreeing with Jaime that it was the only way to get one or two people out of the crowd without the situation getting dangerously out of control.

"If it'll make you feel any happier, Blue, I'll donate some money to a proper 'Wishes Come True' foundation tomorrow. Or start one of my own. We could make hundreds of kids' dreams about being in the movies a reality."

While that sounded like a good solution to the lie they were crafting, Brienne doubted it would be that easy in practice. "Do you know anything about running a charity?"

"No, but my brother's wife does. I'd say you'd like her, but she likes to have fun on occasion."

"So do I!" she exclaimed, aware of their small audience but too irritated to stop herself from falling for Jaime's underhanded tricks of riling her up. "Just not at work."

"So tonight isn't work?" he enquired, his tone becoming sweet and suspicious.

"Of course it is."

"Well, why aren't you wearing anything under your suit?"

Brienne felt herself begin to burn red hot in the second it took for Jaime to reacquaint himself with the vast amount of skin that was exposed at chest and neck level. "I am," she promised. "You just can't see all of it."

"I'd like to see it later."

Her scandalised reply was cut off by Margaery's laughter. She made no attempt to cover up her explanations to the largest Dothraki man that although he could ask Brienne out if he really wanted, their little display of unusual affection made clear that she was already taken. Brienne only blushed harder at hearing him grumble and her friend throw herself into consolations, though Jaime treated it as if a great victory had been achieved, showing his teeth as he grinned up and up at the huge security guard.

"You know there's nothing between us so please don't encourage him," she hissed at Margaery as soon as she'd found a steady voice again, handing over the hastily completed digital poster. "I think that should work if no one looks too closely."

"If you say so," the brunette replied with a smirk that promised there was more to be said on that subject. "And the poster looks amazing considering you literally only had two minutes."

"Thanks," Brienne mumbled, finding that Jaime had taken a possessive step closer as she was continuing to be stared at by a confused Jhogo. "My dad wanted me to have something to fall back on if the movie thing didn't pan out so I studied graphic design at college."

"Sensible but not needed," Jaime dismissed from by her side, no longer looking at her but out onto the red carpet instead, watching as Bran and his gentle giant of a carer were escorted from their place in the dispersing crowd, likely to be the last people to be welcomed into the screening. "You must take after him in that respect."

"Excuse me? You know my dad has run the Evenfall Theatre Group for nearly thirty years, right?"

"I do. I've met him once or twice, too, over the years. He's a good guy but just being _good_ , like you are, doesn't always translate into success. You need to accept what you want and go for it."

"And what about wanting to control that success? Or the consequences of it?"

"We've all got to eat, Blue, and you can't limit yourself before you've even really begun. Consequences be damned. It's very rarely a life or death situation in our line of work."

Brienne sighed. "You would say that."

"So why do you keep presenting me with these problems if you always know what I'm going to say?"

"Not always, just...just sometimes. We-"

"Know each other too well," he finished with a winking flourish, indicating she should relinquish their tickets to a delighted Bran, who was snapping selfies with Margaery and a photobombing Rahkaro. The young fan was making the most of the opportunity, though nobody begrudged him taking it, as he wouldn’t be able to any pictures inside. Jaime smiled at Bran, before adding, "Five years is an awfully long time not to be friendly, Blue."

"It hasn't been-"

"Five years, three months and a week and a half, I think."

"It's weird that you know that."

"Well, I think it's sweet," Margaery told them, opening an arm to encourage the pair into the next photo. "Do you know how many people would be jealous of your relationship?"

"Not as many as you'd think, I'm sure."

"Oh, sweetie, I think you might need to take remove your blinders and take another look at what's been going on."

Brienne considered that as Margaery gave up on a softer approach and reached out to pull her closer towards the flash of Bran's already overtaxed camera. No more than a second later, and certainly before Brienne could find a smile, Jaime was pressing himself against her other side in order to hold her in place for half a dozen mementos, all the while left hoping there was more mocking in Margaery's statement than actual truth. She had so far refused to turn into the same cliche so many of the runners had fallen foul of, just because the highly attractive, highly talented man sought out her company to bark and bicker, attempting to join her for lunch most days on set, didn't mean he was interested. And just because she had given up on pushing him away so strongly, growing tired of isolation, didn't mean she was either.

When the small group eventually dispersed, no one seemed to be in a rush to leave and they all stayed to linger in the lobby a little while longer, Brienne getting a chance to chat with Bran about her own beginnings and his perfect, dream project. Jaime hovered by her elbow for the most part, listening to the pair exchange stories, giving an actor's point of view when they seemed to be running out of steam and heading towards awkwardness, remaining approachable and interesting with only the occasional snarky comment. Having never really heard him talk with such passion for his craft before, the lights flashed almost too soon for Brienne's liking, calling those gathered around the ground floor bar into the screening. They also signalled a somewhat sudden end to Jaime's entertaining tale about Rhaegar Targaryen and _Summerhall_.

With the final call from the lights, Margaery made sure to hug everybody before they said their goodbyes, whispering her wish for Brienne to 'have fun' as they parted. And with that they were led out into the night through the well-hidden staff entrance, Jaime only dropping her hand as he stepped onto the curb to hail a cab, both of them almost blending into the pre-theatre rush filling the streets.

"God, I don't think I've had more than an hour to myself all week apart from to sleep," he sighed, stretching like a cat and sinking contentedly into the leather seat of the vintage black cab.

"I've never really slept very well in a bed that isn't my own," Brienne admitted quietly, frowning as the cab driver indicated to turn in the opposite direction to that of their hotel.

"That could be a sign of loneliness."

"Not likely."

He either didn't hear her snapping snort of a reply or chose to ignore it. "You should have said something. I could have helped you out with that."

"I don't make a habit of sharing my bed so I'm most definitely not lonely," Brienne reiterated, the passing landmarks becoming less and less familiar as she spoke. Over the years, however, she had been in many city taxis that had dropped her off in exactly the right place, if not having taken the roads she would have driven. "It just takes some getting used to. It's different to home."

"Yeah. Homesickness is a bitch."

"When I'm in Hungary, I miss stupid things like the bakery at the end of my street or-" she paused, suddenly certain that they weren't going back to the hotel anymore. "Wait, where are we going?"

"Relax, Blue," he beseeched. "I just thought you might like to see some of this city instead of ordering room service and working into the small hours again."

"How did you-?" she spluttered indignantly, crossing her arms in lieu of making a bigger gesture with her movement restricted by the seat belt. "I have notated scripts to read in my room. Just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm not still attached to _The Red Keep_. And I happen to like the hotel, despite the bed."

"It's fine as hotels go, but it doesn't hold a candle to this city at night. Do you know they keep some of the museums open late for those people who can't get to them during the day?"

"I can't say I noticed. Now, if you're not going to tell me why you've kidnapped me then I'm going to stop this cab and walk back." The lights in front of them were changing from green to red, the cab slowing down to a purring pause behind a steady stream of traffic and Brienne tested the limits of her belt as she reached forward to knock on the glass partition, Jaime catching her wrist just before her knuckles made contact.

"I'm not kidnapping you, Brienne, I promise. I just wanted you to trust me with a surprise."

"I do trust you, Jaime. On set you were...but I'm not good with surprises. I need to know where you are taking me."

"Control freak," he mumbled, turning his head to gaze out of the window. Brienne followed his eye line to where a giant poster hung from a lamppost, swinging in the slight breeze as it advertised a medieval military history exhibition. "That's where I'm taking you. You've not been before, have you?"

She shook her head, speechless for a moment. It would be like seeing the real _Kingsguard_ , the truth in the myths and legends they had picked from to bring bloodless knights and chivalry and noble maidens to the big screen. "I-I only come into the city for business."

"You're missing out on so much, staying out in the sticks."

"But I have space and fresh air and quiet."

"All of which you can find here if you know where to look."

Brienne thought about spending another night alone and decided against it, taking back her arm and doing nothing to gain the attention of the driver as the lights flickered back to green. "If you say 'in your apartment', I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Careful," Jaime grinned, "you're starting to steal all my best lines."

She rolled her eyes. "If that's the best you've got, then I don't want to hear the rest."

"All you have to do is ask, Blue."

"Shut up."

He laughed, the sound leaning closer towards good natured than teasing though it hadn't quite lost that edge yet. "We're not on set, you can't tell me what to do."

"Are we there yet?" she sighed and he only laughed harder.

Jaime almost immediately quietened as they walked through the doors to the centuries old museum, the deceptively cavernous space inside opening up onto worlds from other places and times. She'd seen some in the pages of books and others Brienne had only dreamed about, all preserved here for future generations. The pieces on display to occupy those visitors queuing for tickets were beautifully awe inspiring and her attention wandered as they joined the short line. Jaime seemed particularly struck by a painting of a full grown lion going to war alongside an army, drawing her attention to the plaque, when she asked, that showed it was on loan from the Lannister estate.

"It used to hang in my aunt's hallway. Every summer my brother and I used to see if we could hit it with whatever we had to hand. One year we had paintball guns," he looked up and smiled in agreement with her slowly shaking head. "I know, it was a bad idea. But if you look in the bottom right hand corner you can just about see a two splashes of red where Tyrion tried to colour the lion's paw."

"I always forget you grew up with money. Is there anything else in here that's yours?"

"I wouldn't think so. My father put most of it away before he died." Jaime pulled a face and adopted a tone which was harder and more authoritative than his own. "Why should anyone else enjoy the fruits of our family labour?"

"That sounds-"

"I think we're next," he interrupted, pointing to the yawning young woman behind the desk who had just finished with her last group of college students. The redhead didn't look up from her computer screen even as they approached, drawling through her introduction and selling a pair of tickets without sparing a glance at their faces. Even when they were asked how far they'd travelled, the assistant going through the motions, Jaime affected an accent and Brienne found herself feeling grateful that they were among the last visitors of the day.

"And in what part of the world is Ashemark, again?" she whispered as they walked away, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over her as he snatched another set of tickets from her hand.

"Didn't you ever see _The Prince of Winterfell_?"

"Should I have?"

"I was naked in it, if you like that kind of thing."

Attempting to cover her returning shyness, Brienne glanced ahead to make sure they were following the directions clearly set out on their tickets, only having to climb a single, small flight of stairs before two shimmering shields welcomed them into the exhibit room. With it being so late in the day, the apartment sized space was all but empty of observers, leaving behind a feeling somewhere between vast and intimate as Jaime and Brienne split up to walk around the armour, costumes and weaponry. She'd never expected to enjoy an evening out with Jaime but, as they both started to point out details and dates, their excitement feeding off each other's while time skipped by, she had to admit she'd been wrong to think that.

Although there were several signs dotted around staring that no photography was allowed inside, Jaime still managed to sneak a couple of pictures after she mentioned how much Wylla in particular would have loved to see the richly decorated velvet maiden cloaks. Though Brienne was quick to warn him that he would get caught, ignoring the spark of surprise that he'd done something just for her benefit, Jaime spared no time in reminding her that she was the only one who ever told him off.

"I'm untouchable, Blue," he told her, matter of fact, as he paused in front of the same silver and gold suit of armour she was staring at.

"No you're not." She didn't know what possessed her to do so, but Brienne barely allowed herself time to think through her actions before she was reaching out to squeeze his hand again, threading their fingers together while they stood in the gloom of slowly creeping twilight. "I'm touching you right now."

"I wish the films were more like this," Jaime told her plainly, though his voice was dropping to a deep, deliberate murmur as he shuffled around, leaving her with little choice but to look directly at him rather than gaze upon one of the medieval marvels they'd paid to see. There was so much beauty and intrigue at their fingertips, Brienne could understand why he might be thinking like that, though there had always been more to the _Kingsguard_ series than simple historical accuracy.

"That would spoil the fantasy, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know, I kind of like reality better," he purred in reply, leaning in closer and closer until she could just about feel the anticipation sparking in the disappearing space separating work and what they were beyond that, their hands remaining tightly joined. "Who'd have known this place could feel so romantic?"

Certainly not Brienne. In fact, if someone had told her that morning that she would end the day not only contemplating kissing Jaime Lannister but actively enjoying the idea of his gently demanding lips taking her own, she would have laughed the bearer of such news out of the room. But, as his plaster cast pressed into the small of her back and she rested her free arm around his shoulders, amusement was the furthest thing from her mind. Closing her eyes, she nodded, failing to slow her breathing as he gave in to whatever desires were swirling between them, pressing his mouth to hers. Once upon a time Brienne's first kiss had been stolen from her, those in the following years occurring so occasionally she'd long forgotten the last mediocre touch. This, though, felt almost exactly the way she'd always assumed a first kiss would, back when she used to dream of things she'd been told were out of reach for ugly girls, like being asked to dance and sharing sweet caresses and falling in love, her dizzy reveries overlooked by the very man who currently had his tongue flicking against her lips.

"I think I could be persuaded to like reality better, too," she agreed breathlessly as they parted for air, Jaime's forehead resting against hers. "Though I'm not sure-"

"Your eyes are even more astonishing close up," he murmured, nuzzling affectionately along her cheek and moving to kiss her again.

She melted for a moment but was the first to break that time, her constant need to question, to worry, to overthink, working overtime even as the rest of her wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him. "Why would you want-?"

"Haven't you heard? You're brilliant," Jaime half answered, dropping her hand in order to press his own to the back of her head, capturing her mouth for a third, heated round before her words could properly escape. Encouraging her away from their initial, carefully considered, kisses and closer towards making out in earnest, Brienne tentatively began to meet each touch just as fiercely as it was given, surprised by her growing enthusiasm for whatever this was becoming, feeling vindicated by the slight moan that left his lips as she clumsily tried to stroke his tongue with her own.

She was usually good at keeping track of time. It was part of her job, after all, to make sure actors knew when they would be needed on set and directors were aware of how long they had to shoot in often carefully preserved locations. But even with that ingrained ability, when a tinny voice suddenly boomed to life through hidden speakers above them, informing all visitors that the museum would be closing shortly and ruining whatever mood had been set by armour and artefacts, Brienne bounced away from Jaime in disbelief that an hour could fly by so quickly. He looked absolutely _wrecked_ and Brienne doubted she looked any better, even if neither of them were able to pull their gazes away from the other yet. Jaime's pupils were blown wide in the low light, colour rising along his cheekbones, whereas her skin would likely be blotchy and crimson all over. Two pairs of lips were swollen from prolonged contact, and she was panting for breath as her heart rushed back into a normal rhythm.

At some point since entering the museum, Jaime had unfastened his tie, the absence of it now only adding to the air of debauchery. Blinking rapidly, the realisation of what Margaery had been hinting at and the lines they had just crossed hit Brienne all at once.

"I think that's our cue to go, Blue," Jaime rasped, still unable to look away from her eyes and lips as he ran a hand through his hair, doing nothing to stop the correct conclusions being drawn as soon as they stepped out together. "You and I need some alone-"

"Oh my god! It is you!" shrieked a voice from the doorway, one of the young, female museum guides staring at Jaime open mouthed, already reaching for her phone. "Willow said a Jaime Lannister look alike had come in here tonight," she continued, talking a mile a minute. "But I never thought it would be _the_ Jaime Lannister. Oh my god! My friends are never going to believe this!"

"Sorry," Jaime mouthed across at Brienne a second before the girl paused, finally lifting her head from her phone to look at the other, taller, woman in the room, frowning and shifting her focus to Jaime again.

"Isn't there a premiere tonight?"

"I'm doing research," Jaime lied smoothly with a million dollar smile, watching Brienne glare through her blush. Only a _Kingsguard_ film would involve making out with a co-worker as part of 'research'. "For the question and answer session after the film. We have a couple of historians in the audience tonight for the first time."

"Oh my god! Seriously? And you chose here to do that?"

"Well, it was really my friend's idea. She loves-"

"Could I get a photo?"

Jaime plastered another movie star smile on his face, though Brienne was almost certain she saw him grimace before doing so, pointing to the 'no photography' sign he'd already ignored. "I'm sure my friend and I will be coming back very soon to have another look around, maybe we could do the photo then? You wouldn't want to get me in trouble, would you? I'm kind of cramming here."

The girl seemed completely transfixed, nodding and shaking her head in exactly the right places, lost for words when Jaime produced a pen from nowhere and signed one of the exhibit pamphlets she had in her pocket. He was so good at managing people's expectations, so good at using his charm and good looks to get his own way, that it worried Brienne a little. But she'd never had a lot of trouble telling the difference between Jaime when he was being his normal, contradictory, asshole self and Jaime when he was 'on' for the real, or perceived, cameras.

"Come on, Blue," he murmured while the girl was still falling over her thank yous. "We don't want to outstay our welcome."

"It was lovely to meet you," he told the girl, raising his voice again, as Brienne tiptoed around the few pieces she hadn't had a chance to take a good look at yet, picking out a path back to the museum proper while Jaime let his innate charm take centre stage. He did the same thing to the ladies in the gift shop just moments later, Brienne buying two hefty coffee table books and a handful of postcards for _The Red Keep's_ costume department ideas board, inadvertently keeping up the facade of being there strictly for research purposes. She had tried to inform Jaime that she could get either of the tomes online, but he'd insisted that these fan encounters were far from abnormal for him and it wasn't worth hiding from anything when what she wanted was right there.

"Does that really happen all the time?" Brienne asked as he waved to the two staff members locking up behind them, feeling like she was being bathed in benevolent golden flames as they stepped into the beauty of the late evening, watching the sun edge past half way set.

Jaime nodded, reaching out to brush the back of her hand with his fingers as if tempted to walk back into the city hand in hand. "More so now that the word has gotten out that I'm only sharp with the media. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, we're living in the age of connection, Blue, and for whatever reason people seem to want to connect with me."

Brienne mulled that over, not wanting to remind him of the many reasons why that might be true, the wicked, smouldering twinkle he kept getting in his eye wrong-footing her again.

"They're usually very nice, I'd just prefer it if I wasn't approached in gym changing rooms so much."

She bit into her lip rather than asking a overly personal question about his state of undress at the time these fans had approached him. "I don't think you'll make it back in time if we walk."

"We could run, see if your long legs translate into speed rather than just being for show," he replied, somewhat absently. "I know what you're thinking, Blue, it's written all over your face. And you'd be right."

"It's a good job you're not easily embarrassed," Brienne mumbled, gesturing at his chest and stomach, leaving his comment about her body alone. "We should at least try to get back on time."

"Let me drop you at the hotel first."

"That's in the opposite direction, Jaime."

He smiled knowingly as he swept his gaze up and down the road stretching out in front of them for passing taxis. "Then we better get going if I've got any hope of making Selmy's session."

"It's okay, I'm a big girl, I know-"

"That you are."

"Why don't you ever know when to be quiet?" she hissed, though it wasn't without a touch of affection. "As I was saying, I know my way back to the hotel. I might not be a local but I've figured out how to use the Underground."

"But there's a cab right here," Jaime pointed out, opening the passenger side door of the one that had just pulled up, letting the driver in on their plans. "Ten, fifteen minutes you'll be climbing into a nice, hot shower rather than a grubby Tube car. And then, flannel pyjamas and-"

"How did you-?"

"You seem the type," he replied, gesturing invitingly towards the open cab. "Please tell me they're tartan or have little birds on them or something."

She folded her arms, wondering if there was ever going to be a time when they didn't find something to argue about. "Why would I tell you something like that?"

"Because, I have, on occasion, thought about you while I've been on location, on my own," his smile grew a little wider and she felt like she was being lured into an all too obvious trap. "Late at night. And I think, no, I _hope_ , I'm going to get to see what you wear to bed with my own eyes at some point in the future."

"Jaime," Brienne began, hating herself for not being able to do much more than blush in response when he was in one of his overly flirty moods. "Other people can hear what you're saying."

"Do I look as if I care?"

She cocked her head, studying him carefully despite their all too obvious time restraint. "No, not really."

"That was rhetorical, Blue," he laughed. "Like when you ask us on set if we've finished giggling so we can reset a scene. Now are you coming or not?"

"As long as it doesn't make you late," she made him promise, climbing into the cab just as awkwardly as she had into the limo that had taken her from the hotel, Jaime scrambling in after her. "They have seahorses on them."

"Sorry?"

"Seahorses, Jaime."

His lips barely touched hers but the surface was still just kiss swollen enough for it to sting. "Adorable," he muttered, almost as if it wasn't a surprise, stretching an arm out along the neatly stitched seat without any further preamble to hold her close. Brienne found that his shoulder was far more comfortable than a man of his build should be, her protests dying in her mouth as Jaime started to ask about all manner of sea life.

There was less traffic then there had been earlier, but even with the slowly lifting gridlock, Jaime's well-meaning promise to have her showered and ready for bed in less than half an hour couldn't quite be followed through. Instead, Brienne allowed herself to give in to her niggling need to learn how to relax in his company, reminding herself over and over again that their journey would take as long as it took, even if there was a pressing deadline approaching. And who knew when they'd next have the opportunity to be alone again?

Despite his earlier instigation, Jaime didn't push for anything more than a chance to talk, digesting her responses to the few questions he had about her life beyond one film set or another, given that her background was not so easily googled as his. She had questions, too, though Brienne tried to steer clear of telling him that _The Fall_ had been one of her favourite movies growing up, focusing more on his love of the city and where he wanted to go next in his career. And somewhere between their third and fourth pause at lights that seemed to change to red just as they approached, lengthening their time spent together on the back seat, they started to rediscover their normal rhythm, falling back into tease and bicker and parry.

She felt an unbidden smile rise as they passed a sparkling billboard for a book-turned-musical. It was one Brienne had only read because it came free with a Sunday newspaper and not because historical romances were one of her guilty pleasures, though Jaime took great delight in mercilessly teasing her about her hidden, romantic tendencies, grinning the whole time as if he'd unearthed buried treasure.

"We should go and see it," he announced as the cab pulled up in front of the hotel. "I'm not sure I trust _The Spider's Web_ to give an unbiased review, but I'd like to watch you watch that play. I never knew you had a thing for happily ever afters."

"Because I usually work on things where everyone dies or everything inevitably explodes?"

"Nothing wrong with a little action," Jaime winked. "Or so I keep telling my agent."

She laughed, shaking her head as she reached for the door handle. "I should thank you for persuading me out tonight, I-I have had fun."

"You don't sound so convinced. Maybe I need to kiss you again to make sure."

"You should get going," Brienne replied, glancing away before she could convince herself that another kiss _would_ be a good idea. "Will I see you in the morning?"

"You can see me anytime you want, Blue, I'm filming here until my hand heals, remember? I think I've got that top floor suite for as long as I need it."

"Oh," she blinked, tentatively risking looking back to gauge his reaction. "I go back to Hungary on Thursday. There aren't too many flights this time of year."

Jaime bit into his lip while he smiled, as if already understanding what she was try to tell him. "Come up tomorrow and I'm sure we'll find something _fun_ to do around here."

"Okay," she replied, returning the smile as her cheeks flushed yet again. "Night, Jaime."

"Night, Blue. By the way, your ass looks amazing in those pants."

Jaime laughed at her huffing exhale as she opened the car door, both of them being momentarily blinded by the camera flashes of lurking paparazzi, a cacophony of shouted questions causing Brienne to freeze.

"Jaime, Jaime, who is she?"

"Is she the reason you didn't stay for the screening?"

"How long have you been together?"

Brienne tried to shut them all out, like she had done with the taunts of Hyle and his fickle band of friends back when she first strolled onto the lot at _Weirwood Studios_ , but it wasn't working this time. She'd had worse things aimed at her in the past, had heard Margaery talk about dealing with the gutter feeders who would do anything to catch out an actor, but Brienne herself had never expected to be put in this position. She tried to regain her composure and push off the seat, but the longer she stayed silent, the cruder their demands for information became until Jaime reached over and slammed the door shut in their faces.

"There's another entrance?" he asked the driver while Brienne shivered as if icy water had been poured down her spine, dousing the simmering embers of their night out. The sensation of this barrage of unrelenting misogyny, right now, mixed in her head with memories of what had happened after she'd turned Hyle and the others down on her first days in her _Kingsguard_ job. But if she was momentarily lost, Jaime must have got the answer he wanted while she clawed her way back from fully realised nightmares, feeling him move closer as the cab quickly sped away.

"Forgive me, Blue, those guys shouldn't have been there. There's at least three after-parties tonight and hundreds of drunk startlets for them to catch doing something questionable," he took a breath, his tone switching from threatening growl to protective whisper. "You don't have to do this, you can come back to the cinema with me."

"And what would that look like?" she grumbled, annoyed at herself as much as him and the paparazzi. "I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't, aren't I?"

"This is because of me and this goddamn movie. It isn't because of you."

"You don't think I know that? You don't think I've already worked out that going out with you has the potential to be the best or worst thing that's ever happened to me?"

"Best?" he asked, a flicker of pleasantly hopeful surprise sparking deep in his eyes, subtle shades of green twinkling like Christmas lights.

"Maybe," Brienne shrugged, her irritation fading away as she started to wonder why he seemed to have ignored the rest of that sentence. "I haven't really thought that far ahead yet."

"Has anyone told you that you think too much?"

"You. All the time."

She felt Jaime shift his weight just enough to be able to make the most of where their hands were resting on the seat side by side, skin barely touching skin, reaching out to allow little fingers to interlock for a beat, Brienne being reminded of childhood promises made in the strictest confidence.

"So you have been listening," he murmured. "That's good to know."

There was only one photographer waiting at the side entrance for them, the dark haired man still setting up from what she could see, his camera bag abandoned by the side of the road as he worked through a variety of attachments. There was no attempt to hide from approaching traffic, though neither was he stalking those that mistook the open door as one belonging to the hotel's reception. He was either highly determined, Brienne thought, waiting on someone in particular, or too inexperienced to understand what he was missing out on. Especially as he totally ignored one of _Arbor Fields_ longest reigning troublemakers falling out of her own limo, her well-documented time in rehab clearly having failed, to watch the stream of cars, cabs and vans crawl along the main road. If she was lucky, she could slip past him without even being noticed.

She took a deep breath as the cab slowed to a halt, announcing her intentions to the disquiet that now surrounded her like an slowly suffocating comforter, "We're good here, I think. I can handle one guy."

"You sure?"

"Jaime, I'm certain," she insisted, gathering her courage even as she doubted the photographer would pose a challenge if she was forced to fight or take flight. "I'm pretty sure I could bench press that guy."

Jaime's eyes went wide, coming close to drooling as his jaw dropped. "That is maybe the hottest thing you've ever said to me. Though, telling me to take my pants off for that sex scene was a close second."

She coloured. "Don't you have a Q and A to go to?"

"Why, yes, I do," he grinned, though a level of concern remained along the quirk of his lips. "Remember, paparazzi aren't allowed in the hotel so don't be afraid to call for security. No one is going to mess with you _and_ a Clegane."

Brienne was half way out of the cab by the time she nodded, turning away only to hear Jaime start to practise answering some of the questions that came up time and time again, all with starfish or octopi or seahorses worked in. On any other day she would have stopped and corrected him but, with the photographer finally snapping to attention, she was more focused on getting inside as quickly as possible than dealing with Jaime's jokes.

"No wonder he wanted to hide you," the brunet exclaimed loudly the second Jaime's cab sped off, jogging at her side so that he could keep up with Brienne's longer strides. "You must be the ugliest woman I've ever seen."

"No, thank you," Brienne replied firmly, moving past him.

"Smile, sweetheart," he continued undeterred, fumbling with the camera as he tried to snap pictures that were of more than just her hands. "You're going to be famous."


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery meddles, Jaime makes career choices and Brienne decides to take a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I remain highly disappointed with certain aspects of this week's Game of Thrones episode, and I'm not sure when I'll be wanting to write anything new, this chapter was finished well before this weekend.
> 
> I hope it can bring a little bit of enjoyment.
> 
> Huge thanks to Sandwiches and RoseHeart for their never ending support and friendship throughout the writing of this story! :) :) :)

Brienne grimaced as the photographer's tone sweetened past the point of what could be considered persuasive, her toes curling in the satin covered shoes that had, so far, done nothing but increase her chances of falling on her face in front of one media outlet or another. "No, thank you," she repeated, doing her best not to reach out and physically remove the slender man from her path. "If you're looking for the after party, The Arrow is two blocks down on your left."

"You're the first woman to be genuinely associated with Jaime Lannister for nearly a decade," he laughed unkindly, continuing to snap at her ankles. "Margaery Tyrell could call off her wedding and hook up with her former soap nemesis and notorious ice queen, Sansa Stark, and you'd still be the best story out there tonight. Why don't you tell me your name, darling? Get this all down in black and white. If he's fucking you, you might as well own it."

Brienne squared her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height, all too mindful that every word she said could be used against her. She knew she shouldn't be engaging this man in conversation but she had to ask. "When did Jaime's life become your business? At what point did you wake up and decide that stalking public figures was what you wanted to be known for? There are beautiful things in the world and you choose to chase after-"

" _The Watch's_ most beautiful man in the world seven years running?" he butted in, ignoring the camera around his neck for a moment to pull a square of paper out of his pocket. "If you want to talk, my editor would love to set up an interview. We'd be happy to pay you for your time, too."

"I'm going to go now. You should as well."

"He used to be more fun, you know, falling out of clubs alongside his brother, getting arrested for fighting with co-stars. And let's not forget that whole thing with his sister."

Brienne narrowed her eyes. "I swear to you, he's not the man he was."

"If you say so."

"If you were interested in the truth rather than peddling gossip, then you would know I don't gain anything by lying." Jaime didn't need defending, not really, but he wasn't there to do it himself. Even she knew he'd had years of practice during his transition from the bad boy everyone loved to hate to the frustrating, sarcastic, overzealous man she was getting to know now. The one who'd bribed craft services to make him mac and cheese on a near daily basis, the one who trained more than anyone else for every single fight, the one who liked history and tradition and _her_. It wasn't the time or the place for the tiny smile that fought it's way to the surface, Brienne pressing her lips together to force the inappropriate gesture away, leaving it for later. 

"He must be good in bed for you to believe that," came the reply, a verbal slap across the face being dealt like it was a matter of fact. "Lannister whore."

Brienne almost didn't hear the footsteps approaching, too caught up in working out her next move, but a gruff Scottish brogue broke through her shocked, spluttering outrage like he was stomping through puddles of ice. "Is this guy bothering you, lass?"

"Not as much as he thinks he is," Brienne informed the hotel's night guard, Sandor, who looked as if he'd only come out for a cigarette, the unlit tube clutched in his fingers. "He was just going," she confirmed with a dredged up glower, her mind and muscles and the rushing blood in her ears all screaming for her to run and hide.

"Aye," Sandor agreed, making the single syllable sound more like a question than a statement. But his addition was enough to finally send the photographer on his way. There was a business card lying at her feet, though neither Brienne or Sandor made any attempt to pick it up.

"If you ever feel like giving that interview," the photographer called out as he headed back to join the rest of the paparazzi pack, trying his luck one last time. "Get in touch with _The Mail_ and ask for Petyr. They'll know who you mean."

"Bar's still open if you need a drink," Sandor rumbled around his cigarette as she let out a deep breath and felt her knees tremble, feeling like she may have vastly overestimated her resilience. "I recommend a couple of shots of the Highland's finest to wash away the taste of creeps like that."

Mumbling her thanks for the suggestion, Brienne nevertheless headed straight up to her room, avoiding further human contact until after she had locked the door behind her and slid down to the floor, shock and adrenaline flooding her system. Force of habit led her to automatically retrieve her phone from its ridiculously sparkly container. She chose to ignore her dad's messages of congratulatory enquiry and instead open the link Margaery had sent her along with a dozen or so emojis, her friend's promises that it would rock her world reading as both honest and excited.

Why she had forwarded the transcript of the premiere's live blog, Brienne didn't know, but she scrolled diligently through the pictures and interview snippets, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling left behind by Petyr's intrusion.

Moving down the page, she barely recognised any of the familiar names or places, thinking through what was being lain at her feet, her rational nature needing to see all the pros and cons of being 'associated' with Jaime before making a choice. Was riding that roller coaster of emotion with him worth giving up some, if not all, of her privacy? Was the possibility of being happy less important when weighed to against having her name and business in the papers? Could she live with being seen as his girlfriend or partner before being known for any of her directional achievement? His name alone could open doors for her, but would she want those sort of things given to her when she may not have been the best for the job in question?

Trying not to hyperventilate at the thoughts circling her mind like racehorses around a track, Brienne allowed the growing mess of feelings to overwhelm her, peeling her jacket off her shoulders only to realise she felt exposed without it even away from prying eyes. Shutting the rest of the world out, she barely had time to study the inside of her eyelids before her phone vibrated again. Margaery's most recent message directed her to an instagram page and a slightly out of focus selfie of Tyene and Quentyn alongside Margaery herself, all three of them waiting for the Q and A to begin. Jaime was hovering in the background, looking, from that angle, either downright miserable or highly pissed off, his charm not yet been turned back on for an adoring audience.

She was half way through a reply telling her friend to stop playing with her phone and concentrate on the job at hand, slipping back into the more comfortable role she had carved out for herself on set, when Margaery posted another link, this time to a video of the post-screening session. Brienne paused, retyping her last few words before curiosity got the better of her, crossing her legs and leaning back against the door as her thumb, almost without conscious control, hit the play button.

The well known face of lauded film critic and late night chat show host, Varys, welcomed both the invited audience in the cinema and those watching online, introducing each of the stars in turn. Jaime, she could see, was still missing his tie but at least looked as if he'd tried to tidy himself up since leaving her at the hotel. He remained a little ruffled around the edges but there were thankfully no visible signs that her mouth had been on his no more than half an hour ago. He was smiling but Brienne noticed that it didn't quite reach his eyes, though the crowd clapped and cheered all the same.

Hoping it wasn't worry that was now caressing Jaime's godly visage, whether or not she was the only one to see it, she felt the novel sensation of wanting to comfort him even though the screen. It left Brienne reeling for just long enough to miss Varys' opening back and forth with his assistant in the aisles. Despite the images starting to flash in front of her, Margaery laughing on the red carpet, Quentyn working out complex equations with the air of a eccentric genius, Pod and Jos directing everyone to their seats, she couldn't help but wonder if Jaime would want to do the same for her if their positions were reversed. If she ever came to him vulnerable and concerned, would he hold her first and ask questions later?

She unsuccessfully shook off the idea of curling up with him on her sofa at home, when he wasn't in Brazil or Belize or any other country that begun with a 'B', firmly listening instead to the explanation that all the questions tonight had been submitted by fans as part of the last week of _Kingsguard_ promo. They ranged from silly posturing, ' _who would win in a fight between...?_ ,' to serious, ' _what are the political ramifications of...?_ ,' to an attempt at sexy, ' _who is the best kisser?'_

It was only the latter that seemed to pose any trouble for Jaime's regular brand of self assurance, visibly faltering and squirming in his chair until he found just enough sense to mutter something about not really enjoying those types of scenes, preferring to think about kissing someone special off screen during them. By the time Margaery had stepped in to overemphasise that he was ' _wow, super, amazing_ ,' and that special person was very lucky indeed, winking at the camera to make everyone in the room laugh, Brienne had almost forgotten about her encounter outside, blushing as the merest hint of colour bloomed to life in Jaime's cheeks.

The rest of the session continued in a similar vein, Brienne watching as answers bounced between the four actors while Varys did his best to maintain order. It was clear that they all shared a good sense of camaraderie that hadn't just been put on for the event, Jaime in particular having no problem setting up jokes for the others to finish. Or even, once or twice, being the punchline, as long as the jovial jabs didn't intrude too far into his private life.

He did, however, manage to ruffle Tyene's feathers when passing comment about finding his time in Dorne a little boring, when he’d filmed Revenge of the Rhoyne with her father; only for Quentyn to get the biggest laugh by adding that Sunspear tended to get tedious if you weren't interested in sun or sand or sex. Varys looked about ready to dig into something Jaime wasn't ready to have uncovered, and Margaery stepped in yet again to divert attention to her Dornish honeymoon.

Brienne tuned out at one point, slowly coming down from the night's extraordinary events, just watching Jaime react to whatever was being thrown his way. There was a level of discomfort moving along her skin, goosebumps rising as she considered how it would feel knowing if Jaime could see her but she couldn't see him in return, reversing their current position. But there would be safety in that too, unable to tease, to touch, to tell all, but still hoping he cared.

Feeling herself flush despite the slight chill in the air, colour and heat flickering down her neck and across her chest, Brienne started to wonder how much of that side of their burgeoning relationship needed to be explicitly put out in the open. What she was beginning to see as an unlikely friendship never had been broadcast beyond the _Kingsguard_ set and, despite never having had the opportunity presented to her before, there was no need for public displays of affection. Pulling one of the blankets from the bed, she cuddled into the striped material as her thoughts wandered towards thinking things might be easier than she'd originally suspected, falling into dozing daydreams where Jaime gave up his fancy hotel suite for a couple of weeks in her cottage with a sea view.

Brienne awoke an indeterminate number of hours later to a bang and a very familiar giggle, the room still pitch black, her phone battery now drained. Margaery whisper-shouted from the other side of the door, demanding to be let in as Brienne stretched out her cramped muscles, the floor having proven far less comfortable than the hotel bed. Her friend was on the edge of tipsy when the door was opened, her shoes in her hand, the green goddess gown having been changed for a black and white cocktail dress.

"Good night?" Margaery asked as she threw herself onto the neatly made bed, laughing at Brienne's hissed request for quiet. "Whatever you did to Jaime, you have to keep doing it," she grinned, nearly giddy with delight. "I've never seen him blush before. He _likes_ you. A lot."

Brienne shrugged, not sure she could agree with that statement yet, but she might _like_ him a lot, too. "There's tea or coffee if you want it. And some food in the fridge. I'm going to shower, make yourself at home."

The brunette sang out her thanks through a yawn while Brienne made her way towards the bathroom, hoping her friend wouldn't be asleep when she returned. Margaery had a swish suite waiting for her, people who would want to listen and help, dresses that needed to be given back. Brienne sighed, her thoughts starting to stray back towards Jaime as she stepped into the shower, reaching for the bottle of generic shampoo and scrubbing through her hair.

Feeling warm and clean and comfortable, she needed to take a breath, however, before opening the door again, her thoughts a jumble of hopes and questions. But, greeted by a wave of freshly brewed coffee, Margaery appeared to have woken up in the last fifteen minutes, looking like a piece of art on top of the cream comforter, and Brienne expected to have a whole other set of queries to deal with.

Watching her friend text speedily, the flash of Brienne's own phone caught her eye from across the room, but few people had her number and she left the visible demands for her time until after the sunrise. It could only be her father or work. Jaime didn't have her details yet, unless they had been passed on by a well-meaning third party.

"Aren't you tired?" she asked as Margaery picked up her coffee cup and sipped delicately.

"I've got a flight out in four hours, I'll sleep then." She paused, lifting her head. "We should order breakfast."

Brienne frowned. "In the middle of the night?"

Margaery laughed as she held up her phone for Brienne to read. "Try 5am, sweetie."

"You were out all night?"

"After parties," she smirked. "Never a dull moment."

"I don't think I want to know," Brienne decided, sitting down on the edge of the bed, eyeing the first, dim rays of sunlight that were creeping around the thick hotel curtains. Despite her extended nap on the floor, she didn't feel like she had rested at all but Margaery would be gone soon enough and she doubted the unfamiliar mattress would be a bother any more.

"Not even if Jos proposed?"

"That's not really gossip though," Brienne smiled. "That's a colleague sharing something to be celebrated. Unless Pia didn't say yes."

"Of course she said yes, those two are perfect for each other," Margaery replied. "It's exciting, isn't it? Our first _Kingsguard_ wedding."

"You're probably planning what to wear already."

"I think I'll need a hat," she nodded, shooting her friend a pointed look. "It would be nice if it wasn't our last."

"So, breakfast?"

The brunette shook her head slowly at the rapid change of subject, glancing down at her attention seeking device. "No carbs but lots of protein, please. Oh, and a newspaper! A little birdie is telling me that 'someone special' is on the front page of _The Times_."

"Jaime?" she asked, hating that it came out as a near sigh.

"Or someone who stole his phone and spells just as badly," Margaery squinted at whatever had just been sent, choosing to ignore the sound of Brienne's breath audibly leaving her lungs. "I think he's trying to tell me that you should answer your messages quicker. You're going to have so much fun deciphering that dozen or so."

Brienne blinked once, twice, as if momentarily stunned by the suggestion, her feet finally following her furtive glances across the room, absently towelling her freshly citrus-drenched hair dry as she went. Scrolling through his commentary, the one she thought she'd missed by skipping out on the screening, the sodden, but still fluffy, white square fell from her hand in surprise when she discovered that Margaery hadn't been exaggerating in the least. "Why is he still at the party?"

"There were a lot of sharks circling tonight. Producer types," she added at Brienne's quizzical stare. "Jaime doesn't drink much anymore, not with his brother _and_ sister in rehab, though I'd guess by now there's only one or two of those bigwigs still sober enough to talk to him."

"I thought tonight was supposed to be the fun part of your job," Brienne chewed at the inside of her cheek, sending a quick reply to Jaime, with a clumsily worded promise for more later, before switching her attention to finding a number for the front desk.

"It will be for some people but not all roles are determined at casting, sweetie."

"If your face fits..." Brienne trailed off ominously as room service answered, sounding warm and professional despite the early hour. The voice reassured her that it was no trouble at all to order Margaery a plate of eggs and bacon, adding, on a whim, some French toast for herself. She was told it would be with them as soon as possible, being thanked again for her call while she answered Jaime's next, last question.

"I saw the guys from _Meraxes_ spending ages with him earlier. You know they're adapting those novels to be filmed in the New Forest, right?" Margaery prodded from a new angle, smiling sweetly. "Might there be a reason why he's looking for something a little closer to home?"

"We didn't exactly talk about-" Brienne blurted out, casting a glance towards the door in a futile hope that someone would interrupt her inept explanations while her friend nodded encouragingly. "I mean we did talk but...but he didn't, I didn't..." she closed her eyes, all but stopping her own train of thought as she opened them again. They'd only had one sort of date. It was dangerous to think he would start thinking about choosing roles to be in the same county as she was. "I've never read those books. I assume Jaime would be in line for the villain?"

"Me neither but brothers love them. Loras hasn't stopped going on about it since they announced the show," Margaery rolled her eyes, putting down her phone to fill Brienne in on the parts of the story she could remember from her siblings' recollections. "And you never know," she paused for breath as the sound of gentle tapping made them both jump from the bed. "Jaime might surprise us and pick the path less travelled."

"He's not exactly predictable," Brienne replied from over her shoulder while she signed for breakfast, checking over the perfectly presented plates briefly before her eyes fell on the newspaper that had been folded over so she could only see a bird's nest of straw blonde hair and the top of Jaime's head.

"Good. The only things in life that should be predictable are cell signal and the tube. Anything else is boring."

She smiled politely at the young man in front of her while Margaery waxed lyrical on the virtues of spontaneous men, Brienne slowly realising that she couldn't hold the tray, read the newspaper and search for enough change to tip him at the same time. Glancing down again as a swell of nervous excitement bubbled through her blood, she felt concern start to niggle and whisper in the back of her mind, making her feel like she had done something wrong by enjoying herself the previous night; for kissing him back, for thinking, if only for a moment between daydreams, that they had the potential to work as a couple, for hiding from the fact that she occasionally missed Jaime's irritatingly insistent company when they were thousands of miles apart. He was becoming as familiar as her favourite cinnamon rolls and was, possibly, just as addictive.

She must have been standing in the doorway for too long to be considered normal, lost in her thoughts, as the next thing she knew, Margaery was tapping her on the shoulder, allowing Brienne to deal with the press intrusion while she balanced breakfast and gratuities with ease.

"W-why didn't you s-say something?" Brienne stuttered as Margaery sent the young man on his way with a vague explanation about the big premiere. She couldn't quite believe what she was seeing under the fold. Jaime looked like the demigod he was, his visage unsurprising despite a distinctly wonky bow tie, grinning up at her like she was better than the moon and the sun and all the stars in the sky combined.

The Brienne in the photograph was staring straight back at him, not even thinking about paying any attention to the out of focus crowd behind them, a line of wary amusement just starting to decorate her forehead, though something close to delight seemed to be twinkling in her eyes. She remembered standing by the entrance some hours earlier and feeling the flashes go off around them but it was a strange thing to be seeing Jaime and herself from another point of view. She looked happy, and although nowhere near as beautiful as the other women gracing the red carpet, flicking through the rest of the premiere's coverage showed that there wasn't a single other person who had the same level of spark and connection as she had with Jaime. Even in two dimensions there was palpable _chemistry_ between them and it terrified Brienne.

"I did," Margaery insisted, crunching through a piece of bacon. "You just haven't been listening."

"You didn't tell me _this_ ," she hissed, opening up the broadsheet and stabbing a finger towards the caption under their front page picture.

" _The Look of Love_ ," Margaery mused carefully. "What's wrong with that? It's sweet. And not that you've ever noticed but that is exactly how he usually looks at you."

"He doesn't."

"Oh yes he does," she replied, vigorously waving her phone at Brienne as if the gesture meant something. "If you don't believe me, why you don't go and ask Jaime himself? He's _back_ and it's only five floors."

"He-"

"Or you could just answer _all_ his messages and hope he gets the hint that you're interested as well."

Brienne took a breath, working through as many reasons as she could think of to stay in her room until she remembered that she'd kind of promised Jaime that she would spend some of the day with him. And she had never broken a promise yet. "I'll go."

"I'd wish you luck but I don't think you'll need it," Margaery smiled, wrapping up the slices of French toast in a napkin and passing them over. "But you may need some extra calories."

Though she didn't know exactly what her friend was trying to insinuate, Brienne still blushed all the same. "Thanks. I'll see you..."

"Soon," she swore. "And you have my number if you need to talk about anything. Now, go on, what are you waiting for?"

Margaery sounded a little too much like her grandmother for Brienne's liking, but she nevertheless gathered up her room key and headed upstairs with a nervous parting smile, feeling more than awkward riding the elevator in pyjamas and a sweater, her hair still damp at the ends.

The rap of her knuckles on the ornately lacquered wood of his door sounded too loud to Brienne's ears, echoing down the almost empty corridor, the early hour unappealing to the rest of the VIP guests. There was but one solitary maid beginning her early morning routine and she went out of her way to eye the freshly showered blue eyed blonde with suspicion, her accent thick with Meereenese vowels as she passed, muttering something about forgetful residents while she opened up the suite next to Jaime's. Watching the woman move around her overflowing trolley, Brienne quickly knocked a second time, hoping that Jaime hadn't come in from his long night and gone straight to bed. Shifting her weight from hip to hip as seconds ticked by and her resolve weakened with each one, checking her phone in case another message had come through, she started to wonder if maybe it was for the best that they both forgot what had happened between them earlier.

She was getting ready to cut her losses and go back to Margaery with a stack of soggy, uneaten toast cooling in her pocket, when Jaime's voice cut through her downward spiral of messy thoughts, calling out to let her know everything was open. So surprised was she by his blatant disregard of personal safety or privacy, she near fell into his room as she pushed her palm down on the handle and misjudged the weight of the door.

His suite was just as elegant as Margaery's, sympathetically decorated in monochromatic shades, but the only thing that truly caught her gaze was the man casually leaning against the cream corridor wall, waiting for her clumsy entrance. He was a little damp around the edges, too, a pure white shirt clinging to his chest as if he hadn't quite cooled down from his shower before slipping it on, his woollen suit having been replaced by well fitted jeans. In that light, barefoot and still unshaven, Jaime looked more like half a god than he ever had and Brienne couldn't help but recognise the look in his eyes as one she had seen previously in print.

Feeling their beat of silence stretch into something nearing uncomfortable, she allowed another wave of concern to temporarily drown all she had to say, watching Jaime gesture at her knees while a smile quirked his lips at the corners. "Seahorses."

She nodded shyly, glancing down as she did. "I didn't think you'd be seeing them so soon."

"Neither did I," he agreed, stretching the muscles in his back and arms as incentive to encourage her closer, though the subtle flirting was lost on Brienne. "But you don't know how happy I am to see any part of you this morning. Networking gets harder as you forget when you last slept."

"Is that why you didn't lock your door?"

"Margaery texted. She said you were on your way up," he explained with a nonchalant shrug. "I didn't think you'd appreciate me opening the door naked."

Brienne blushed, beginning to feel awkward in a way she hadn't before their kisses. "I don't think we're _there_ yet."

"But we are somewhere?"

He sounded almost hopeful and she nodded again, still tentative enough that a subject change felt more appropriate than ever. "Margaery said that you were talking to the guys from _Meraxes_ for ages earlier."

"Yeah." Jaime ran a hand through his hair and her fingers itched to smooth it when he let go. "It looks like I'll be having a screen test next week."

"So you'll be moving to The New Forest?"

"Maybe. They seemed keen and it's not so far away from Tyrion. I've got three months of brotherly duties to catch up on."

Brienne swallowed, gathering her courage. "It's also less than half an hour away from where I live. Depending on where they'll be filming, of course."

"Of course," he replied smoothly, his smile becoming a leering grin, checking in on her seahorses again. "How convenient. For research and tourism purposes, I mean. Do you have a farmhouse or a fisherman's cottage?"

"A cottage. There's only me, I-I don't need a lot of space."

"So what you're telling me, Blue, is that I won't need to knock down any walls to make room for you in my life."

Brienne tried to stop herself from blushing deeper, her skin feeling like it was approaching a violently untested shade. "Y-your walls are in no immediate danger."

"Good," he smiled. "Now close the door and come here."

She blinked rapidly, wondering if she had misheard him. "Sorry?"

Jaime stalked forward, closing the distance between them so she didn't have so far to travel. "Your lip keeps trembling and I'd very much like to stop that for you before it becomes a bigger issue."

She automatically ran her tongue along the surface, nibbling at the cracked skin and making Jaime groan in the process.

"Not. Helping. Blue."

"Sorry. Am I doing this all wrong?"

"God," he breathed, taking another step towards her. "Absolutely not. Not at all."

"I-I think we...should go back to the museum b-before the exhibit ends. W-which will happen while I'm in Hungary," she told him as she fought past the very last of her reservations. Remembering the open door, she turned to close and lock it, catching sight of the still muttering maid who handed Brienne a 'do not disturb' sign with a look of practiced disapproval. "Though I'll be back in three weeks."

"To some people three weeks might feel like a lifetime."

"Oh," she replied, somehow managing to spin around and shuffle nervously forward until she was inches away from Jaime, the spicy, woody scent of his shampoo making her mouth water. "I never meant to imply you have to wait..."

"You didn't. _I'm_ letting you know that three weeks is long enough and I might want to call you. Regularly."

"Oh," Brienne repeated, wondering if _The Times_ photographer really had found a truth she'd been too blind to see until now. "Might you also w-want to...kiss me again?"

"Desperately," he purred. "So, now that you've closed the door, would you just come here."

And so she did, feeling his fingers tangle through her hair, his lips crashing against hers, his arms holding her tight. Hearing him murmur in contentment as she gave herself over to their kisses, Brienne closed her eyes to what was waiting for them beyond the secured hotel door and opened her heart to everything that was _Jaime._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
